


Promise

by laissemoidanser



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:52:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laissemoidanser/pseuds/laissemoidanser
Summary: The real Percival Graves always kept his promises.





	

*******

 

Percival Graves opened his eyes. He was panting heavily, bids of sweat stood out on his temples. The room he was staying in lighted up for a fracture of moment with a bright flash of light, and then a clap of thunder reverberated outside.

A nightmare. It was just another nightmare.

These days nightmares were a regular thing for him, nightmares where he could hardly grasp the essence of what was going on, but could inevitably sense the relentless presence of his hateful tormentor Grindelwald. Always following him. Always getting to him in the end. The door to his room would open painfully slowly, and he would see his tall shadow, the evil hideous grin on his face.

" _It’s time, Mr. Graves,"_ he would say, swinging his wand in the air.

Few more deep breaths, and Percival’s heart slowed down gradually, stopped thrashing inside his chest trying to break free. Hesitantly, he turned his head to look at the door, which was now charmed with about a dozen of warding spells. The door was firmly closed. He sighed with relief then and sat down in bed. Outside the window it was too loud. Inside, in his room, it was too dark. Percival threw back his blanket and fumbled for his cane in the darkness. It took several long minutes before he could get to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane, and slowly, with a grimace of pain, he padded to the window.

Another flash of raw light illuminated the skies, and Percival could see the raging sea a few hundred meters away from his temporary shelter. Seraphina Picquery sent him here "to improve his health" as she put it. Graves still had no idea in which way staying in this godforsaken ancient hotel on the edge of the world could possibly help him get rid of his past, of what he had to endure while he was being held captive by the impostor Grindelwald. However, he understood perfectly what the President implied. Returning to his former duties at the MACUSA was for now completely out of question. Graves would rather prefer to vanish into thin air and disappear forever out of existence than agree to bear all the shame, shame and dishonor to his family name. Look! It’s him! A descendant of the very first Aurors of MACUSA, the founding fathers. The one who was captured and mercilessly used by the impostor. The one whose personality was taken away from him.

Oh, how utterly his life was broken!

Graves staggered back from the window.

Furthermore, even though he himself would never dare to admit it, he was still all too vulnerable. Too weak to even do magic.

Percival snapped his fingers in a familiar gesture, trying to light the candles in the unbearably dim room.  Nothing happened.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

There was another reason why he didn’t want to go back to New York. However, he was afraid to recall this reason even in his own deepest thoughts. He was thinking about getting rid of those memories once and for all and would have done so already, but they were way too dear for him. Too heavy was the mark of guilt. Guilt for what he once had done. Guilt for his own good intentions, for his own weakness...

 

Percival walked back to his bed and took his wand from a bedside table. It still seemed alien to him, unfamiliar after it was used by the villain’s hands. So much evil was created with it that Percival was sure - his wand was irrevocably flawed now.

Graves waved it lightly. His hands were trembling treacherously, he could sense the magic vibrating, pooling at the tip of the wand, but it wasn’t enough. He was so weak he couldn’t even light a candle.

“ _Lakarnum Inflamare!”_ he repeated aloud, his voice steady and full of anger. Candles flared up, and for a moment the room was alight. Then the flames died down and half of the candles went out completely. Percival tossed his wand back onto the bedside table, making it cough an angry spray of red sparks; he sat down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. How could he ever go back to his former life?! Percival Graves had ceased to exist, he was pathetic, nothing but a shadow of his own self.

A tap on the window interrupted his anguish. He set up, startled, his hand reached toward the wand instinctively. Few endless moments passed, but nothing happened. As soon as he made himself believe it had been nothing but his imagination playing yet another trick on him, he caught sight of a swirling dark matter, materializing right in front of him, right in his room full of warding spells.

Percival pointed his wand at it, ready to fight, but his senses were telling him that this creature wasn’t evil and didn’t seek to harm him in any way. Black swirl of what he assumed to be pure raw magic, stopped moving and hovered quietly in the middle of the room, twisting gently as Percival held it in his sights. He was peering at it through semi darkness of his room and saw how the swirl of magic started to transform until it dissolved and took a physical form. And suddenly, a tall pale young man appeared before him, hunching slightly, his eyes cast down.

Percival’s heart skipped a bit and everything inside of him collapsed and turned and twisted. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Could it be that he still was having a nightmare? He dropped his wand, but hardly took notice of it.

“Credence...” he whispered, surprised to hear how distant and unfamiliar his voice sounded.

Credence was silent. He was just standing in front of him now, like a reminder of what he’d done, of life that Percival Graves had forever ruined with his stupidity and weakness. Serafina had explained him enough, not everything maybe, but enough for him to know for sure. And if the boy had come all the way here to kill him, now cornered, helpless and unarmed, he was ready to meet his end.

“They told me you were dead,” Percival said. “President Picquery, she...” he put his fingers to his lips and fell silent.

“No one knows that I'm alive. “ Credence said, still not looking up at Percival.

Oh, but of course, he was angry with him, of course, he would never ever forgive him.

 “I’ve failed you in so many ways, Credence.” Percival said, his eyes full of pleading.

 _My boy_ , he wanted to add, but didn’t dare. Grindelwald had deprived him even of this little privilege. So Percival looked down and stared at the floor.

“You can kill me if you want,” he said dully. “I won’t resist. To be honest, in my present state, it won’t even be that difficult.”

 Instead of an answer, he felt a warm touch. Credence came up to him and stood by his side, laying his hand on Percival’s shoulder.

“I thought I forever lost you, Mr. Graves.” he said timidly. Still Percival could hear that Credence’s voice sounded somehow different now, more confident, since the last time...

Percival shook his head.

“I'm sorry for everything.”

“But this wasn’t your fault, sir,” Credence insisted, gently squeezing Percival’s shoulder. “Back there, I saw it all, I know. You were used, same way as our friendship was used. We both fell victims to the Devil.”

“Credence, I ...” Percival couldn’t help but admit to a surprising lack of all the right words. His eyes started to sting from tears that were forming at their corners, threatening to run down his cheeks. The boy still believed in him, how could that be possible?! He put his hand over Credence’s and smiled softly at him.

“I’d really like to make amends to you. For the fact that I couldn’t protect you. In time. For not being there. Credence, all this time...all I could think about was how I possibly could ... “

“Mr. Graves.”

Percival looked up at the boy again. Credence watched him intently, no hesitation in his eyes. He’d never seen him like that before. Not when his adoptive mother’s shadow was hanging over him like a Dementor over a prisoner. Credence had found something new, he’d found freedom. He seemed so strong to Percival, a magic of incredible power was radiating from him, and surely he could get rid of Graves in a matter of seconds if he’d wanted to.

“Would you agree to help me? To come with me?  Would you teach magic to me, sir?”

 Graves was on his feet instantly then, forgetting all about his cane. He came up to Credence, closing any distance that was left between them, took Credence’s hands in his own. With a mild surprise he admitted to himself how much taller the young man seemed to appear now, how different his posture was, how different the way he carried himself. Where’d he been all this time? How did he survive? Endless succession of questions swirled in Percival’s head, but it was not yet the time to ask them. Now the most important thing was that his boy was alive, that he’d found him.

“Anything, Credence, anything at all. I promise you. No one would dare to stand in our way anymore.”

 He squeezed Credence’s hands gently.

“Just tell me, and I'll do anything for you,” he repeated passionately.

Credence looked at him from under his dark lashes, his eyes mysterious, searching. Percival felt him freeing his hands away from his grip, moving even closer to him and clutching at the collar of his shirt. And then Credence pulled him in with sudden force, catching Percival’s lips with his own. Percival’s surprise didn’t last long, he opened his mouth willingly. Did he think about this? Yes. Did he dream about this? Hell yes. And he knew all too well that _this_ , these feelings between them, had become the main game changer in the hands of Grindelwald. Now Credence needed to know. To make sure that he wasn’t being deceived again. His kiss didn’t last long but was persistent, greedy. He pulled away from Percival and stared at his lips, enchanted.

“Is _this_ what you want?” Percival asked him, a little out of breath, holding Credence in his hands firmly.

“Yes, Mr. Graves,” Credence whispered, barely audibly. For a moment his eyes met Graves'. “That's all I've ever wanted.”

 Percival couldn’t believe his ears. He was saved. _Saved!_

“Well,  in that case... everything’s going to be different, my boy,” he said, smiling, not realizing how he was still holding Credence in his embrace, so tightly, as if otherwise his dearest treasure could accidently dissolve into the air and turn out to be only a deceptive vision.

“Promise me, sir.”

“I promise. Damn it, cross my heart and hope to die.”

 The storm outside was subsiding. Candles were burning brighter. The real Percival Graves always kept his promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
